


Under My Protection

by coolbreezemage



Series: King's Knight [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Annette's songs, Books, Bullying, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Time Skip, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Racism, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbreezemage/pseuds/coolbreezemage
Summary: He was dangerously close to overstepping, if he hadn’t already gone entirely beyond what was appropriate for a peasant sitting in the Prince’s bedroom with a book of romantic legends on the shelf between them.A good king protects his people; a good knight protects his king





	1. Chapter One

Sometimes he felt certain there must have been some mistake. A thief off the streets should never have been allowed to study and fight alongside the children of nobles, let alone the prince of the realm. 

Somehow, Dimitri didn't seem to see it that way. He insisted they could act as equals, as friends. And yet, his status and his power were impossible to forget. Especially when he had Ashe on his back on the stones of the training ground, a blade pointed at his chest. 

"I yield!" Ashe gasped. 

Dimitri withdrew his lance and offered Ashe a hand up. "You're doing well."

"I'm not! You knocked me over three times already."

"Yes, but last time I knocked you over four. And you almost got a hit on me that time."

He was right. Ashe dusted himself off and checked his weapon for damage. "And you've been training in spears and swords since you were a boy." He didn't know what prompted him to add, "If we were shooting, I could probably beat you."

“I’m sure you could. I've never had much skill with the bow." Dimitri ran a gloved finger over his own lance and scowled. "Damn, cracked it. I thought I was getting better about that."

“Maybe it was already weak?”

“No, it's my fault. I checked it before we started. I don’t mean to be careless, but sometimes I can forget my own strength in a fight.” He shook his head. “Frankly, it’s disgraceful.”

That seemed harsh. “I don't think anyone would dare scold you for it,” Ashe said. 

Dimitri made a sharp sound that night have been a laugh. Had Ashe ever heard him laugh before? “Oh, they will. The training ground is one place where my rank truly means nothing. I remember Gustave would even scold my father if he let his form slip, never mind he was the King.”

“Oh. Right.” Ashe hadn't quite caught his breath yet and he was sure Dimitri could tell. 

"Should we call a halt to it?” he offered, to Ashe's great relief. “I could go longer, but there's that reading in magic the Professor assigned for tomorrow. I'm sure it's going to take me all evening just to begin to understand it."

Ashe had been dreading that himself. "I know, I'm worried about it too. Magic isn't my specialty. I’m sure the Professor has good reasons for making us all read it, but I’m not looking forward to it."

"We could work on it together,” Dimitri suggested. “Come, we can take some food from the dining hall and study in my room.”

"I couldn’t,” Ashe stammered. “I mean, you're- I'm-”

"I've told you, at the Academy, I am just another student."

Ashe didn't say that even the students who weren't royalty were still leagues above him. 

Dimitri watched him. "Do you want to study with me?"

Of course he did. "Yes, but..."

"Hmm." Dimitri looked thoughtful. That was usually a dangerous sign. "If you will insist on treating me like royalty, doesn't it follow that you should accept my will? And if my will is to assist you..."

"I- I suppose you're right," Ashe conceded. It still didn't feel right, but he couldn't fault the logic. 

They finished cleaning and checking their gear in relative quiet. Dimitri was always adamant about doing due diligence to the equipment. It was one of the things Ashe liked about him. Too often he’d helplessly watch Sylvain saunter off after a practice session, leaving Ashe to tend to the clean-up or face the weaponsmaster’s ire. 

So they scrubbed and oiled and examined as Ashe wrestled with this new position that Dimitri offered him. Of course he wanted it, he would do anything to serve his future king, and there was something about Dimitri that drew him even closer than that. The way he seemed so cold and yet the moment he spoke he proved himself to be kind, concerned, anxious, and gentler than Ashe had ever known any nobleman to be, except for Lonato. How he had gone so far out of his way to ensure Ashe was comfortable at the Academy, even when he had his own friends and studies to attend to. How was it that he could be so formal and polite and yet care so little for propriety when it came to his fellow students?

“There, that’s the last of it,” Dimitri said, setting the training weapon in its rack. “Let’s get some food. I heard Dedue had a hand in the cooking tonight.”

“Oh, that means it’s bound to be good,” Ashe said, shaking aside his wandering thoughts and following Dimitri to the dining hall.

Evidently theirs was not the only professor who had assigned difficult work that night. The dining hall hummed with the chatter of students at their work, books and papers spread across tables heedless of the risk of spills and stains. The counters were spread with things that could easily be taken back to students’ rooms for long study sessions. Platters of roasted vegetables sprinkled with herbs, meat pasties, skewers, little cakes topped with jam. 

Dimitri piled things onto a plate without, it seemed, much regard for flavor. Ashe allowed himself the luxury of choosing the most delicious-looking of the spread, though with Dedue in the kitchen everything was probably beyond reproach.

The Professor was there too, sharing some sort of fish dish with Flayn and Seteth. Flayn waved at him and Dimitri as they walked by. Dimitri offered her a polite bow in return, which set her blushing. Seteth peered after them, not quite accusingly, but rather judgmentally all the same. 

They made their way up to the noble students’ dorms. Dimitri’s room near the end was so perfectly, austerly tidy that Ashe idly wondered whether Dimitri actually slept there at all. He fetched his study materials from his own room and settled himself on the bookshelf by the windows. Between bites of dinner, they took turns reading off exercises and discussing them until they came to an answer. It went well enough, if slowly, until they came to the illustrations of the mechanics behind various spells.

Dimitri set his book on the desk with a grumble of frustration. “These diagrams - I can’t for the life of me consistently remember what the different arrows are supposed to indicate.”

Ashe looked up. “The directional markers? Annette taught me a little song to remember that. It’s really helpful.”

“Oh? How does it go?”

Ashe coughed. “Er… _ Up points to heaven where the rainwater’s flowing, drips down underground to the roots ever-growing _ …” he sang, with none of Annette’s charm, watching Dimitri’s face for the moment he inevitably would tell him to stop embarrassing himself. But Dimitri only listened intently, nodding at each line as if he was listening to one of the Professor’s seminars. The song went on to cover all seven directions and a few of the major junction symbols. Some of the metaphors were a little strained - “ _ clockwise to nighttime when we huddle by the hearth” _for heat and flame aspects, for instance, but they were all memorable, which meant the song served its purpose well.

Ashe was completely red-faced by the end of it. He didn’t know why he’d chosen to _ sing _ it, it probably would have been much less awkward to just recite it. But it was too late for that now.

Dimitri nodded thoughtfully. “That’s very helpful. Thank you.” He mouthed a few of the lines under his breath, as seriously as if they were holy gospel. 

“I’m glad. It…” Ashe gave a nervous laugh. “Trust me, it sounds much better when she sings it.”

“Yours was a fine rendition,” Dimitri assured him, which hardly helped matters. 

Ashe buried his face in the book and flipped to the next diagram. “Um. If- if we apply that formula here,” he babbled, “it comes out to a modified version of a basic light spell…” The words trailed off. 

Dimitri hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Ashe knew instantly that it wasn’t a formality; Dimitri was honestly concerned that he’d hurt him. His blush only deepened. “It’s- it’s all right, Your Highness.”

“Please, don’t be embarrassed,” Dimitri insisted. “If I were to be honest, I’d say you’ve possibly just saved my grade in this course. A song… it’s a clever way of remembering the information, don’t you think? Perhaps the Professor might use it in class. I’ll have to talk to Annette and ask if she has any more.”

Ashe suppressed the warmth that blossomed inside his chest at the praise. He couldn’t regret it now, hearing that. He’d sing a dozen silly songs if it meant he could ease even a fraction of Dimitri’s burdens. Fortunately, Dimitri moved onto the next equation before Ashe needed to search for words to reply. 

The lamps were burning low by the time Ashe yawned and closed his notebook, at last confident he had answers that would satisfy the Professor. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I really think I should go to bed.”

“Oh, I see.” Dimitri glanced out the window at the dark sky outside. “My apologies, I didn't realize it had gotten so late. I think we did a very good job together. Certainly better than I would have on my own.” 

Ashe stammered something he hoped was appropriate and hurried downstairs to bury his burning face in his pillows. It was just anxiety, he told himself, just his own worries about interacting with someone of such exalted status. Nothing more. 

Their Professor evidently agreed with Dimitri’s conclusion when they reviewed their answers in class the next morning. Ashe could have sworn he saw Dimitri smile at the Professor’s praise. He'd heard people say Dimitri didn't smile, but he _ did _, you just had to be paying attention to see it. 

Annette too glowed with pride to hear that her songs had been useful. “Maybe I’ll share one with the class,” she said, idly tapping her quill on her paper without noticing the blotches she left across the page. “But not a silly, embarrassing one. I’ll have to write a special one just for us!”

“That would be lovely!” Mercedes agreed. “And maybe the other teachers can use it too.”

“You really think so? They're just silly things I make up to help me remember. I didn't think they'd be so useful for other people!”

“It certainly helped me,” Ashe assured her. 

Felix grumbled. “I am _ not _ singing in class. I refuse.”

“Aw, Felix,” Annette pleaded, “try it! It's fun!”

“Maybe for you, but I have more dignified things to do. Like training.”

Mercedes, ever the mediator, nodded. “Training is important too. Oh!” She clasped her hands together. “That reminds me, I wanted to study swordfighting for the certification exams…”

“You?” Felix questioned, raising a sharp eyebrow. “Isn't your focus in magic?”

“Well, yes, but learning more can't hurt! It might even be fun! Don’t you agree, Ashe?”

“Oh, yes! Learning is very rewarding.”

Felix rolled his eyes. 

Dimitri caught Ashe as they were leaving class. “It seems we make a good team,” he said. “I would like to repeat the exercise, if you are willing. I... promise I will not keep you so late next time,” he added, a little guiltily. 

“Yes. It would be my pleasure,” Ashe said, trying to hold back the ridiculous smile he felt rising at the idea.

They studied together again the next week, and the week after that, even when the assigned work was something they both had a good grasp on. Dedue figured out their routine by the third week and showed up with a platter of snacks, which was very welcome, because Ashe greatly suspected that Dimitri had forgotten to eat lunch that day. 

It was maybe their fourth or fifth session when the engraving on the cover one of the books on Dimitri’s shelf caught Ashe’s eye. He wiped his hands clean and asked for permission to retrieve it. Dimitri agreed, seeming a little puzzled at the request.

"Are these stories of knights?” Ashe asked, flipping through the unfamiliar tales. _ The Keeper of the Forest. The Sage in the Mountain. The Golden Bridle. _“I've never seen this volume. And I thought I'd read them all."

"Ah, that. My father had a fondness for the truly ancient tales, the ones dropped from common memory. Most of those predate even Loog.” Tales older than Loog? That was fascinating. “I don't know why I brought it. I haven't had much taste for stories of valor recently.” He shook his head. “I'm not sure if you'd enjoy these. They're somewhat more... brutal than the usual chivalric canon."

“Brutal?” They were tales of war, certainly, but all of the stories Ashe knew polished the battles into glorious dances. He paused on a woodcut illustration of a donkey peddler confronting a bizarre creature that seemed half snake, half woman. 

"There's a knight in there who rides into a village and drowns an old woman simply because she was annoying the townsfolk with her nagging. And then when the villagers throw a feast in his honor, he takes two girls to his bed and leaves them to bear his bastards."

Ashe shook his head in disgust. "That doesn't sound very heroic at all."

Dimitri made a soft sound in agreement. "I said the same as a boy when I first heard the tale. My father told me it was meant to be funny more than it was meant to be heroic.” Why the King would be reading his young son dirty stories, Ashe did not ask. 

He still couldn't see it. "I suppose ancient people had a different sense of humor."

“It wasn’t until long after that that tales were written specifically to model knightly behavior. I much preferred the stories Ingrid shared with me. When we were small, we'd play at being our favorite characters.” He shook his head fondly. “It must have looked ridiculous, but it was fun.” Ashe tried to imagine child versions of Dimitri, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix playacting as the ancient heroes and came up short at the image of Felix as anything other than what he was now. 

"I'm sure it was adorable. You're very much like those heroes,” he said, before he could think better of it. 

Dimitri looked away. "If only I was." There was something dark and distant in his face, but Ashe couldn't read what it was. 

"I mean it," Ashe insisted. "You value honor and justice. You fight for those who need your protection and you're always trying to help your friends." Surely there was something inappropriate about speaking so plainly, so earnestly, but how could he not? It was only the truth. How could Dimitri not know it?

"Those ideals... They have value, and yet, it isn't like that in real life. When my parents and the knights... When they died, it wasn't noble and glorious. It was bloody and terrible and meaningless."

Ashe cringed. He'd put his foot in it again. "I'm sorry to make you remember it."

"Ashe." So gentle, and yet implacable. He forced himself to meet Dimitri's eyes. "I will remember it every day of my life, whether or not others choose to speak of it. You have not harmed me by listening."

The moment hung between them, a moment in which Ashe blessed Dimitri’s kindness and wished yet again that he were a proper knight so that he might defend Dimitri from harm. And then it was gone, replaced by the knowledge that Dimitri was already a far better fighter than he could ever hope to be, and that he was dangerously close to overstepping, if he hadn’t already gone entirely beyond what was appropriate for a peasant sitting in the Prince’s bedroom with a book of romantic legends sitting on the shelf between them.

“There is one thing,” Dimitri said, when it became clear that Ashe was not going to be able to speak, “that the ancient tales share with the common canon.”

“Oh? What is that?” Ashe asked, grateful for the change in subject but also somehow missing the tenderness of moments before.

“Whenever there is a heroic lord - a king, or a chief, or a great warrior - he always has a second hero beside him, bound to him by something deeper than duty.”

“Loog and Kyphon,” Ashe said.

“Precisely. Sometimes they’re a knight and his liege, sometimes friends, brothers… lovers, even.”

Ashe blinked, that warmth returning. He’d heard the tales, of course he had, but they were usually so wrapped in metaphor as to make their meaning vague and open to interpretation. “I didn’t think the Church approved of that,” he said, slowly.

“It depends who you ask. The Western Church is less welcoming than then Central in that regard. But there are more parts of the Church of Seiros that look kindly on such things than ones that deign to give foreigners dignity.” There was a bitterness to his words, a bitterness Ashe had heard once before, from a more-than-slightly drunk Claude at the feast after the Lions’ victory in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Hilda had said something about her brother fighting Almyran brutes on the border, and hurt had flickered into Claude’s eyes. He’d said something about the two peoples not really being that different after all before launching into another wild story about his past. Ashe had wondered… But there was no point to it, because it wouldn't make a difference either way, and clearly it was something Claude wanted to keep to himself. Ashe could respect that. 

No doubt Dimitri was thinking of Dedue. Ashe had heard the comments often enough on kitchen duty. Usually the offenders didn’t even bother getting out of Dedue’s hearing first, either because they didn’t care or because they meant to hurt and knew he had no way of defending himself that wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth. 

Ashe had protested this nearly every time he heard it, but the soldiers and nobles’ children who spoke so freely also didn’t like the intrusion of one they saw as a jumped-up peasant boy and taunted all the more when he dared raise his voice in Dedue’s defense. Ashe had stayed silent the last time a knight had marched away from the counter, nose up, because he wouldn’t eat food prepared by a filthy dog, and the shame had all but driven him to tears. Dedue, of course, had said nothing, only set another tray out on the counter. Claude and his Golden Deer had come stampeding into the dining hall moments later, ravenous from a long day of training, and had taken every last bite while offering friendly waves to Dedue and Ashe both, but it hadn’t eased the ache in his heart at the injustices he was helpless to prevent. 

“Ashe? Are you all right?”

He shook his head to clear it. “I'm sorry, I was thinking of some of the things I've heard people in the Church say about foreigners. People can really be terrible, can't they?”

“They can. And there is so infuriatingly little we can do about it.” With all that Dimitri had suffered, where had all this care come from? 

Ashe thought of a thief clutching a beautiful book, thought of coins pressed into a hand, astonished eyes awash with gratitude at the small gesture that would never be enough.

“We do what we can when we see injustice happen,” he said. “For most of us, there's not a lot more we can do. But you… you will be King. You're going to be able to do a lot more good than any of us when the time comes.”

“I hope you're right.”

From there the conversation shifted to safer things. Upcoming seminars, certification exams, new weapons. But Dimitri’s mention of heroic lovers lingered in Ashe's mind long after that night, drifting through his dreams.  



	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe takes a stand, and suffers for it. Dimitri comes to his rescue.

It took Ashe a while to realize it, but somehow, Dimitri had learned to navigate him. How to soothe his anxieties and steer away from his awkwardnesses. Ashe was intensely grateful for it. Few others in the past had taken the effort to do so. Left to his own devices, he would no doubt have run this relationship into the ground long ago. But when once he might have stuttered and fretted in the presence of his house leader and prince, now he was comfortable, happy, even. They were doing more than just studying now; when they finished their work early, they'd read tales from the ancient book to each other. Their evenings together left him warm and content, and the Professor had commented several times on his improvements in class.

The others hadn’t failed to notice how close he was either.

"So, you've been fraternizing with the boar?" Felix stabbed a piece of meat with more force than necessary. 

Ashe winced. "I wish you would stop calling him that." He reached for another slice of bread. Whoever had prepared dinner tonight - it might have been Flayn, he thought - hadn’t done the best job of it, but Ashe had learned long ago never to turn down a hot meal. 

"It's what he is. Allow me to give you a warning. Don't trust him. And don't turn your back on him. I’m sure you think he’s all _ sweet _ and _ honorable _ under the bloodlust, but it's an act." His tone made a mockery of the words. 

Bloodlust? Surely not. "You make it sound like the fable about the wolf-man's bride," Ashe said, aiming for a bit of levity. 

Felix spat. "Pah. Everything is about fairy tales with you. Grow up, Ashe. Chasing chivalry will lead you to nothing but a bloody death."

Ashe was quiet for a moment. "You know, I think he might agree with you on that."

He was met with a sharp eye and curled lip. “I doubt it. He’s always been too soft-hearted.”

How could Felix accuse Dimitri of being a brute with one breath and of being too soft the next? It simply didn’t make sense. But sense or not, it was no less _ wrong_. 

“He despises injustice. That’s honorable. That’s exactly what a prince should be like.”

Felix snorted and shook his head. "You'll see. Someday he'll slip again, and show you what he is. And then I doubt you’ll look upon him with such fawning eyes.”

Some unknown well of courage boiled over inside of him. Ashe leapt to his feet, his meal forgotten. “I’m not going to listen to any more of this. He will be your _ king_, Felix. You should show him some respect.” He believed that with all his heart, and yet Felix’s glare still threatened to make him waver. 

“Don’t you dare lecture me about respect,” Felix snapped. “Or duty. It’s idiotic ideals like that that got my brother killed.”

Ashe bit his tongue. How could he have been so foolish as to forget? The anger drained away, leaving only shame in its place. People were looking at them. He sat back down, head bowed. 

“I- I’m sorry, Felix.”

“Hmph. You were almost admirable there. Next time, don’t back down.”

And what was that supposed to mean? Ashe didn’t push it. He ate the rest of his meal in silence, barely tasting it. 

He was handing in his plates to be washed when Dedue approached from behind. “Ashe.”

He turned. “Oh. You heard that, did you?”

Dedue nodded. “Yes, I did.” Always straight to the point with him. Ashe liked that. “I would like to thank you for your defense of His Highness.” 

Ashe felt himself begin to blush. “Oh, um, you’re welcome, I suppose. I don’t think I did a very good job.”

“You did well,” Dedue said, as casually as if he was judging a sparring bout. “Felix has detested him for almost as long as I’ve known them. And yet His Highness still calls Felix a friend. It puzzles me.”

Ashe shook his head and risked a glance back at where Felix still sat at the table, hunched over his plate. “I don't know. It seems strange to me too. But he and Felix and Sylvain and Ingrid all grew up together in Fhirdiad. Maybe it’s just how they are. And Felix cares, even if he seems rough on the outside.” That, he knew to be true. 

“I will hope that you are correct,” Dedue said, though he sounded doubtful. 

Ashe didn't have a better answer for Dedue the next evening when he joined him for kitchen duty. Today they were making pies with the remains of the hunters’ fresh bounty before the rest of the meat went to the smokers. He and Dedue had spent much of their last greenhouse shift discussing potential spice blends - _ eastern pepper and sage for the poultry, dried berries and cinnamon for the venison - _only to find when they arrived that the previous cooks had left the shelves of spice jars in an unrecognizable jumble. Because Dedue was taller and could reach the shelves without any trouble, he set about reorganizing everything while Ashe chopped the meat and vegetables and sifted flour for the crusts. 

The recipes were simple enough that Ashe could let his mind wander as his hands worked. He thought of recipes he wanted to try once the smoked meat was ready. Of the placement exams that Dimitri had assured him he would pass with ease. The Professor had encouraged him to start training in wyvern riding, of all things, and Petra, who'd transferred to their class last month, was more than willing to help him through the basics. 

He thought too of the tales he had read in Dimitri's ancient book. Not all of them were about knights; there were just as many about commonfolk, monks, demons. A few were bawdy enough to set them both blushing. A monk who accidentally bargained his testicles away in a deal with a demon, a bear who turned into an irresistible beauty to lure hunters to her cave to devour in the throes of their passion. Some, as Dimitri had warned him, delighted in violence and death. That strange, unreadable look came into Dimitri's face whenever they came across bloody descriptions of glorious heroes striking down hordes of demon-possessed enemies, stabbing each in the heart and the head to be sure they would not rise again. They'd begun to avoid those legends in favor of the more knightly ones, where heroes so old their names had been forgotten completed impossible quests assigned by the Goddess herself, always accompanied by loyal companions who tended their wounds, shared their burdens and sometimes their beds. 

Those, Ashe enjoyed most of all. 

He was moving a tray of pies to the counter when he was approached by a dark-haired girl wearing a very expensive necklace. Ashe knew because he had seen it two weeks ago in a shop window while helping Hilda and Annette with their shopping. Dorothea had passed by and clucked her tongue at it, calling it ostentatious. Evidently, it had found a buyer. 

The girl leaned over the counter and peered into the kitchen. “Did you get in trouble?” she asked Ashe, voice brimming with cloying false sympathy. 

“Uh…no?” What did she mean by that?

“Why would they have you working with _ him _ if you weren't in trouble?” she said, as Dedue stepped out with a steaming venison pie in his hands. Ashe set down his own tray with a little too much force, hands tight around the edges.

He thought of what he had told Dimitri about injustice. Dedue would have told him to simply ignore her. But he couldn't just let her unjust words go unanswered. If he was to be worthy of being a knight, if he was to be worthy of Dimitri, he could not stay silent now. 

“You shouldn't say such things, he began.

She sniffed. “You can't tell me what to say.” 

He couldn't, not to a noble, but he could say the truth. “I'm working with Dedue because I want to. Because he’s an amazing chef, and he's my friend.”

The girl shrugged. “It just makes me uneasy, you know? But I suppose a street rat like yourself couldn't understand it.” Ashe was glad he was too angry to flinch. “How can you trust someone like that with your dinner?”

“I trust him with my life,” came a familiar voice, cold with fury. The chatter around them went silent. 

The girl's eyes widened. “Y-your Highness! I was just making a joke.”

Dimitri glared at her with a look in his eyes that Ashe had only seen before on the battlefield. “Dedue, and Ashe, and all the Blue Lions students, belong to the Kingdom, and are as such under my protection.” He didn't move from where he stood, but the girl backed away even so. “I won't ask you to apologize, because I know you won't mean it, but I will advise you,” he said, low and dangerous, “to consider your words carefully the next time you speak to my students.”

The girl blushed a furious, humiliated red and fled the dining hall. 

Someone - Ashe was fairly sure it was Raphael - cheered, only to be shushed by his neighbor.

Dimitri let out a breath and the ice slowly melted from his expression. “I'm sorry, you shouldn't have had to deal with that,” he said to Ashe and Dedue both. 

“It is no trouble, Your Highness,” Dedue said. “Please, take some food.”

“It is,” Dimitri said, too quietly to be expecting a reply. He chose one of the pies, seemingly at random, and cut a large portion from it. 

“Thank you,” Ashe said as soon as he found his voice again. “That was impressive. And brave.”

Dimitri shook his head. “No. It was you who was brave. She would not have dared threaten me.” Dedue held out a dish of gravy and waited patiently until Dimitri had taken several spoonfuls. “Do you know who she is?” Dimitri asked them both. “I didn't recognize her.”

“Claretta von Essar,” said Professor Hanneman, looking up from an intense study of the range of pies on the table. “A distant cousin of mine, I'm afraid.” He shook his head sadly. “This is exactly the sort of pettiness I had hoped to avoid by giving up my nobility…” He continued muttering to himself as he heaped food onto his plate and headed out the door. 

Dimitri still looked… guilty, somehow, as he regarded Ashe and Dedue for a few last moments before taking his plate and finding a seat next to their most recent new recruit, Marianne. 

Ashe returned to the kitchen, but not before he saw Claude lean back in his seat so far he was almost falling over and grin at Dimitri. “That was quite a show, Your Princeliness. You should get angry at jerks more often. Would make the world a better place.” He didn't hear Dimitri's response, but he heard Claude’s laugh that followed. 

His heart was still pounding as he started pulling dishes and cutting boards into tubs to be washed, but not out of fear. There had been something glorious in how Dimitri had immediately come to their defense, something beautiful in watching the ignorant and the cruel flee from his fierce eyes. It should have been frightening, and yet Ashe only wished to swear himself to it. To serve someone who saw such a small thing and thought it worth fighting for! 

The warm feeling didn’t last past dinner. Ashe returned to his room to find the door slightly ajar and muddy pawprints all over his bed. He tried to push his unease aside as he gathered up the sheets to take to the laundry. Surely this was just his own mistake. He didn’t mind the monastery's cats. They were quite sweet, really, especially the grey-and-white one who liked to curl up next to him when he sat in the courtyard to study. But cats, clever as they were, could not open locked doors. 

The instincts that had saved his life so many times on the streets kept him awake all night, waiting for the next intrusion. He hadn't survived for this long without developing a sense for when someone had plans against him. 

He remained on edge all through the next day. It started early, with morning services, where Seteth gave a sermon on the importance of family that just made him miss Lonato all the more. He needed to write letters to his siblings. Many of his fellow Lions remained stone-faced throughout the speech; Felix even scowled outright at a line about a father’s duty to teach his children honor. 

Flying lessons with Petra, Flayn, and Ingrid continued to turn his stomach and make him long for solid ground, or at least for a surface to climb that didn't move as he did so. They weren't the only house practicing on wyvernback today, which meant that he not only had to track the movements of his own formation, he also had to ignore the sounds of Claude and Hilda shouting childish insults at each other on the other side of the paddock. 

Archery with Leonie and Ignatz was at least something familiar. He was able to lose his worries for a time in the tension of the bow string and the trajectories of arrows towards their targets. Their light banter as they challenged each other warmed him for a short while. Sometimes it felt like the entire school had joined their class, each coming over by one under their Professor’s wing. 

But once the weapons were away and the day was nearly done, he was even more exhausted than before. He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on any of the work he and Dimitri planned to study that night. He was almost grateful when Dedue came up to him at dinner and told him that His Highness was suffering another headache and could not meet with Ashe. The relief he felt at not having to make his own excuse shamed him. 

Concern, though, outweighed both relief and shame. He knew this was not a unique occurrence, as much as the two might try to hide it. How often was Dimitri in pain, and more importantly, how often did he actually admit to it? Dedue, of course, would not say, and it was hardly Ashe's business to pry, but the worry on his stern face told a story even so. 

Having the extra time to rest was probably good for him. Still, a part of him regretted that he was unable to spend the evening beside Dimitri, unable to hear his voice turning dry lessons into royal proclamations and see his smile when Ashe found the solution to a tricky exercise. 

When he returned to his room, the door was closed, just as he'd left it. Despite his fears, nothing seemed immediately untoward. He almost started believing that the pawprints had been his own fault, that maybe he'd just left his door open accidentally, when he caught the stench coming from his laundry. With a sinking heart, he lifted an undershirt from the top of the basket and found a piece of dogshit under it, smeared into the fabrics. At least one of the shirts was utterly ruined. The jacket - Lonato had had that one made for him before he left for the Academy - might be salvageable, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. He should wash them himself, he thought, and spare the maids the effort and himself their scorn. 

There was only one person he knew who might bear a grudge against him and who was unkind enough to do this. Honestly, he was surprised she was willing to get her hands dirty just to put a peasant boy in his place. What was next? Claretta could ruin any of his meager possessions and he could do nothing to stop her. And what was to say she would not target him directly? Sleep evaded him once again, made the next day another trial to endure. 

To his relief, Dimitri was in class the next day, looking a little tired but otherwise well. 

“Ashe,” he said as soon as he saw him, and how did Ashe's heart still flutter at that after so many times? “I'm truly sorry for missing you last night.”

Ashe shook his head and took the seat next to Dimitri, something he never would have dared to do at the beginning of their time here. “It's all right. I heard you were ill. I'm glad you're feeling better.”

“A ridiculous affliction,” Dimitri grumbled, half to himself. “Headaches that render me useless for hours at a time…”

Ashe wished, more than anything, that there was something he could have done to help. Before he could work out what to say in response, Dimitri went on, “And you? If I might be honest, you look exhausted. What has happened? Don't tell me you were up all night reading again...” The concern in his eyes almost made Ashe admit the whole thing. But he could not burden Dimitri with his own petty problems, not when he had so many of his own. 

“It's nothing, really,” he said, managing a small smile. “I just haven't slept well in a few days.”

“Ah. I was planning to ask if you would like to make up our evening tonight, but maybe it would be better if you rested.”

Disappointment sparked through Ashe. “Oh, no, I would love to.”

Before, he might have fretted that he would commit some foolish breach of etiquette, that he might take advantage of Dimitri's willingness to assist his friends regardless of their status. He still feared desperately that he might disappoint his prince, but he no longer feared himself unworthy of his company. And his company felt so good and right, so how could he refuse such a gift?

“Good. I'll see you tonight,” Dimitri said, as the Professor called the class to attention. 

Class went slowly as he struggled to stay focused on the lecture. He found his thoughts drifting again and again to worrying what Claretta would do next. More than once he caught the Professor’s concerned eyes on him. Mercifully, he managed to stay awake, if not entirely alert, and mercifully, the Professor assigned them very little work that day. 

Sylvain, evidently pleased with this turn of affairs, waved him down after class. “Hey, Ashe! Want to come into town with me? We can do the shopping... aaaand get a head start on arranging dates for this evening…”

Ashe yawned. “I've already got plans.”

Sylvain grinned. “Ooooh, you've got a date? Good going. Who is it?”

“It's not a date,” he said, trying not to blush and failing. 

Sylvain nodded sagely. “Just keep telling her that, she'll fall for you soon enough. An adorable, charming guy like you? It's inevitable.”

Ashe wasn't sure how he felt about Sylvain calling him _ adorable _, but at least it brought the conversation to enough of an end that he was able to slip away back to his room in the hopes of taking a nap before tackling his schoolwork. 

It was not to be. There on his desk was his tormentor’s latest casualty: three pages of an essay on battle tactics, torn into crumbled pieces and stained with ugly blotches of ink. He supposed he should be grateful she'd left enough to read from, rather than stealing or burning the whole thing, but he couldn't hand it in in this state. It would have to be redone. Paper was expensive, and the Professor would be disappointed if he wasted it. He begged a few sheets off of his neighbor Linhardt, who handed them over without question, and spent most of the afternoon copying his report and finishing his other work. By the time he could justify stopping for a nap, the dinner bell rang. 

Dinner tonight was Annette’s work, which meant reasonably good food, if you ignored the fact that half of it was burned and the rest far too sweet. Ashe ate his quickly, praying that nothing terrible happened while he was away from his room. For once, his prayers were answered; his things were untouched upon his return. He paused a moment at the door, thinking, and then placed a pebble from the courtyard on the ground just in front of one of the doors. This way, at least he would know if the room was disturbed in his absence. He gathered his papers and wax slate and headed up to Dimitri's room, grateful that Sylvain wasn't there to see him. 

He entered the room to the sight of Dimitri leaning over a steaming teapot emblazoned with the royal family’s gryphon emblem, and two cups bearing the jagged Crest of Blaiddyd. 

“I have a tea I would like to share with you,” Dimitri explained. “It's a blend Dedue came up with to help me with…” Whatever it was he was going to say, he didn't, only ended, “...for me. I was hoping it might help you sleep.”

The Prince of Faerghus, making tea for him? Ashe could have wept at the kindness, or maybe that was just the exhaustion. _ Why can't you care for yourself the same way you do for others, _Ashe couldn't ask. 

Dimitri poured him a cup with what seemed unwarranted care. Ashe took it, cradling the finely-made china in his hands to let the warmth sink into his fingers. The tea smelled of flowers and roots and Ashe could easily recall the sight of Dedue in the greenhouse, carefully harvesting the ingredients. 

He would have to compliment Dedue on this blend, he thought as he took a sip. Warm, comforting, slightly bitter but not sharp. It wasn't magic, but it did make him feel a little calmer. Which might have been how he found himself unable to resist when Dimitri turned to him and said, “Ashe. Tell me what’s wrong. You look like you haven’t slept at all, and your eyes are wary.”

Ashe’s conviction to keep his own troubles from his prince's shoulders crumbled. He told Dimitri all that had happened, cringing at the filthy details. 

Dimitri’s expression turned serious, eyes cold and furious. “Well. I have no doubts as to who is behind this.” He once again regarded Ashe with that overwhelming concern. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Ashe shook his head, helpless. “I can't prove any of it.”

“Perhaps not yet. But we cannot let this stand.”

“I don't know what to do,” Ashe protested, his exhaustion turning the words into a pathetic whine. “I keep imagining someone’s going to come in while I’m sleeping.”

“In that case…” Dimitri said, carefully. “I think it would be best if you slept here tonight.”

A dozen different protests came into Ashe's mind at once. It would be improper, he might disturb Dimitri's sleep, he wanted it too much...

“I don't want to trouble you,” he said at last. 

“I would be more troubled to think you were in danger,” Dimitri said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Who knows what she might attempt if she's already proven herself so low? But she would not dare intrude here.”

How could Ashe refuse such an offer of protection? “Thank you. Your Highness.” He winced as soon as he said it, but Dimitri didn't seem offended. 

Dimitri knelt down to pull a pillow from under his bed. “Stay here. I’ll go see if I can find some extra bedding.”

“I should do that myself,” Ashe protested, but the words were lost to a yawn. 

“You look like you’d fall over in the corridor if you tried. Let me help.”

He was too tired to resist. He was safe here. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, hoping Dimitri understood how deeply he meant it. He curled up on the rug with the pillow and fell into peaceful sleep long before Dimitri returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Dimitri's nightmares, more scheming, and a confession.


	3. Chapter Three

A strange sound jerked Ashe from sleep. For a moment, he feared it was Claretta or her friends, come to confront him directly, and then he felt the quilt under his fingers and knew it could not be, because he was in Dimitri’s room - and it was Dimitri’s voice he was hearing, but Dimitri’s voice almost unrecognizable with desperate strain. 

“Listen to me… I saw them!” he cried, clutching at his sheets with such ferocity that Ashe was sure he would tear them. “Duscur is innocent. Hold your armies… listen to me, _ please_...”

An icy chill seized Ashe at the words.

“Y-your Highness?” he tried. But Dimitri continued, unheeding, pleading with some unseen power. 

The sky outside was pitch black with barely a sliver of clouded moon to illuminate it. Ashe fumbled to light a lamp. Maybe he shouldn’t interfere. But he couldn’t bear to turn away, to ignore this pain, not when he could do something about it. 

He took a breath and said, with all the confidence he could muster, “Dimitri?”

The thrashing stilled, all at once, leaving only harsh breathing against a silence too tense to be called relieved. Dimitri sat up and buried his face in his hands, hair falling in a ragged mess around his fingers. He wore a loose white shirt edged in blue embroidery that did not quite cover the thick scars that sliced over his shoulders and across his back, or the savage stains of years-old burns on his arms and hands. Ashe had never seen Dimitri's bare hands before, he realized. Maybe this was why. 

“Dimitri?” he said, silencing the echo of Lonato’s voice in his head that scolded him for taking such liberties.

Dimitri shook his head and didn't look at him. “Ashe. Forgive me. You shouldn't have to see me like this. This is utterly shameful…”

“It's all right. I'm sure we all have nightmares. I know I do.” A weak response, but it was all he could think of in the moment. Ashe wanted nothing more than to comfort him. A nervous laugh bubbled up in his throat at the absurdity of it. How could he offer? How could he not? It was improper, he had no illusions about that. But faced with his prince in such torment, what else was he to do? “I promise you, you're not alone.”

Dimitri stared at nothing, still half-lost in the dream even after he’d woken from it. “I can see it. I can still it, all of it, and I can do _ nothing _ to help!” He was all but clawing at his eyes now. 

Ashe climbed up on the bed beside him and caught his wrists, knowing full well that Dimitri could throw him across the room easily if Ashe displeased him. 

“Please, you'll hurt yourself.” This close, he could feel Dimitri shivering, see the sweat standing out on his skin in the lamplight. “Breathe slowly. Let me help.”

Dimitri lowered his hands, revealing haunted eyes. “All of them, gone. And what came after was far worse, for so many more...” he said, anger pouring into his voice. Ashe did not need to ask what he meant. He knew Dimitri had seen and suffered horrors that Ashe could not ever imagine. “My uncle, my generals… they slaughtered a nation of innocents in my father’s name. In _ my _ name. To see how deeply my people hated a race of others who had never done them harm…” He drew a shuddering breath and declared, bitter and certain, “We are all _ damned _.”

What was there to say to that? “That… that’s for the Goddess to decide,” he said, the same thing Christophe had told him when he’d fretted over his own crimes. “You’re a good person,” he said. “I've seen it, so many times. Ask any of the Lions or the teachers and I'm sure they'll tell you the same.” 

Dimitri hadn't moved his hands away, so Ashe held on, willing him to understand. 

“You would not say that if you knew what I've done,” Dimitri said, miserably enough to send chills through Ashe yet again. What did he mean? It didn't matter now. “I do not know how Dedue bears the sight of me.”

That struck Ashe through the heart with how _ wrong _ it was. 

“That's not… You should hear how he talks about you. He adores you. And he worries for you. That's not duty, or servitude. That's something more.” Like a figure out of tales, Dimitri commanded love from all he met without ever having to ask for it. Except perhaps Felix, and even then Ashe wondered. 

“I can only pray that you are right,” Dimitri said, weakly.

Ashe thought of a character from his stories, a lonely boy made king too young, forced to survive by his wits and the support of his advisors. _ If only he could know himself loved, _ he thought, then pushed aside the sweet warm thoughts for another time. “Maybe you could get up, take a walk. Clear your head. That helps me sometimes.” 

Dimitri shook his head and finally pulled his hands from Ashe’s. “No. It would not do for the others to see their prince wandering the halls like a lost child.”

“Then sleep,” Ashe said. And then added, before he could think of how foolish it sounded, “You're safe here.”

“I wish that were true,” Dimitri said, almost too softly to hear. But he lay back down, closed his eyes and remained still, tense muscles slowly relaxing into sleep. 

Ashe waited a while longer, to be sure he slept peacefully, and then blew out the lamp and curled up again to find what sleep he could. 

***

Dimitri was already awake and dressed when Ashe opened his eyes to morning light. He stood by the door, distractedly adjusting his cape. Ashe hoped he'd gotten some sleep after the previous night. He supposed he ought to feel bad about what he'd done: called the Prince by his bare name, touched him, comforted him as an equal. But he couldn't regret any of it. 

Part of him hoped that Dimitri wouldn’t remember the events of that night, hopes that crumbled when Dimitri turned to face him and Ashe saw the shame heavy in his eyes. “Ashe. I must again offer you my deepest gratitude.” He swallowed. “I fear I have been an awful host. Last night was… worse than it has been in quite some time. I promise you that I am not often so weak.” 

There were so many things that Ashe wanted to protest about that statement, not least of which was the fact that the Prince of Faerghus had invited Ashe to sleep in his room to protect him from a scheming girl with a petty grudge, and now he was thanking _ Ashe _. 

“It's not weakness,” Ashe said. “I'm very glad I could help.”

“You did, very much.”

“Thank you, again,” he managed. “I hope I didn't bother you at all.” He'd talked in his sleep as a child, and he was not entirely certain that he'd grown out of it. 

“It's no trouble,” Dimitri insisted. “Though I cannot promise I will be…. restful, you are welcome to stay again, if the situation is not resolved,” he said, again leaving Ashe fumbling for an appropriate response. “Somehow I doubt it will be. Justice is rarely swift.” That last, said with enough bitterness to twist Ashe's stomach. 

They went downstairs together to check Ashe's room. Ashe breathed a sigh of relief to find the stone behind the door undisturbed. But he knew better than to relax entirely. 

“Dedue's room is next to yours,” Dimitri noted. “I will ask him to be on his guard.”

Ashe would rather not involve any more people than he had to, but Dedue was a friend, and having another pair of eyes looking out for him would be a great comfort. 

Dedue wasn't in the dining hall, but the rest of the Lions were, chatting cheerfully over platters of eggs, sausage, and pastries. Ingrid wasted no time interrogating them when they joined their House at the breakfast table. “You look angry,” she said to Dimitri. “What happened?” 

“A student from another class has been mercilessly harassing Ashe over a perceived slight,” Dimitri explained, as coldly as if this were one of their mission briefings sending them out against bandits. “Destroying his possessions in revenge over something that was entirely her fault.”

Petra scowled. “The Blue Lions will not be allowing a friend to be treated badly.”

“A coward’s tactic,” Felix growled, stabbing a sausage. “I’ll show her how a warrior fights.” 

Sylvain smirked at him over his tea. “Look at you being all honorable, Felix. It's a good look.” 

Felix mimed throwing a glass at him. “Shut up, it's not like that.”

“Oooh, are you going to duel her?” Annette asked, kicking her feet in excitement. Bernadetta, sitting next to her, shrank back in her seat. 

“Oh my, are you sure there isn't a better option?” Mercedes said, alarmed. “Perhaps you could talk about it instead of fighting?”

Ingrid shook her head. “Nobody's having a duel. Or if they are, it's going to be with me. She shouldn't be able to get away with this.”

“It is dishonorable, and childish,” Dimitri declared, voice harsh. He sighed, and his expression softened. “I’m afraid this is my fault, Ashe. If I had not caused a scene, she would have felt no need to target you.”

“No,” Ashe protested, “I’m - I’m glad you did it. I wouldn’t change anything.”

Sylvain leaned over the table and grinned at Ashe. “Don’t worry. We'll defend you. We're a pack, you know?”

“A group of lions is called a _ pride_, Sylvain,” Ingrid put in. 

“Whatever. We're still not going to let that bitch get what she wants.”

“Language, Sylvain,” Dimitri chided. Sylvain rolled his eyes. 

Annette still looked worried. “We should tell the Professor,” she said as she leaned over the table to grab a third sweet bun.

“Tell me what?” 

The Lions turned to the front of the table, where the Professor and Dedue stood with their arms full of flowers. 

“We were planning on decorating the classroom,” Dedue explained, to Annette’s obvious delight. 

“Professor.” Dimitri stood, and bowed, and before Ashe could stop him, told the Professor everything, starting with the evening Ashe and Dedue had cooking duty. 

Byleth nodded. “I had heard similar from Professor Hanneman. You did well, all of you. I’m proud.” 

Dimitri brightened at that, just a little. “I would have told you as soon as I learned,” he added, contrite, “but it was late at night and I did not wish to disturb you.”

The Professor fixed him with a meaningful look. “Dimitri. You are welcome to speak to me at any time. That goes for the rest of you too, especially if you are being threatened. I trust you will not abuse the privilege.”

Sylvain waggled his eyebrows at Ashe and mouthed something that Ashe didn't catch except that it ended with “..._ with Dimitri? _”

“And, Ashe,” the Professor continued, in a tone that forewarned something utterly serious. Ashe jumped to attention, bracing himself for a reprimand. “You should have told me as soon as you suspected.”

“I understand. I’m sorry, Professor.”

“If it happens again, tell me. I will not allow it to go on.”

Ashe trusted that, he truly did, but anxiety still clung to him like a stain he could not clear away. He tried to busy himself with classwork and his friends. Today was a warm day, and they all knew it was probably the last they would have until spring, so they strove to make the most of it, arranging themselves in the courtyard after lessons to take in the last warm rays of sun. At least, it seemed warm to the students who hailed from Faerghus. Petra, a fur mantle clasped tight around her shoulders, muttered about the cold as she sat next to Bernadetta. The two of them poured over a book of tales from Brigid, Petra offering translations where the transcriber’s commentary fell short. Ignatz’s parents had sent him a package with a new winter coat, and he couldn’t help but fret over the cost, and Leonie’s advice didn’t seem to be helping. Sylvain recounted a tale of the previous night’s exploits to Felix, who looked like he wanted to push him into the pond. 

Ashe, focused on his book, didn't notice Dimitri until he sat next to him in a sweep of blue cape. “Sometimes I forget how good it is to have days like these,” Dimitri said, watching his classmates fondly. “A short while of peace before we must… carry on with our goals.”

_ Where will I be when you are King? _Ashe wondered. 

“It's good,” he agreed. “Sometimes I feel like we're doing far too much fighting. It's for good reasons, but…”

“But it wears on you. The senselessness of it all. It feels as if it will never end.” He gazed across the courtyard, eyes distant. “And the worst part is how it starts to feel normal. To kill without feeling…” He shook his head, wearing a small self-deprecating smile. “Forgive me, I'm spoiling the mood. I find it perhaps easier than I should to talk to you.”

Ashe felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sunlight. “I'm happy to hear,” he said. “And I'd be happy to listen.”

“I'll remember that. But I won't trouble you now.”

They sat like that for a while longer. Ashe marveled at how much had changed since their first few paired assignments. Sylvain and Ingrid both hadn't wasted the chance to tease him about how he'd used to stutter and fret in the presence of their prince. But this, this was comfortable, and warm enough for Ashe to almost forget the weight hanging over his head. 

Despite his fears, his room remained apparently undisturbed when he went back to find a book for his studies. And then he heard voices just outside his door. 

“Are you sure this is entirely necessary, dear?” Professor Manuela said, sounding very put-upon. “You’re certain you didn’t simply misplace it? Why, there was a time I was absolutely certain somebody had taken my earrings. I thought, oh, Hanneman must have used them in an experiment, so I went to his office…” 

“It was him,” Claretta insisted, interrupting Manuela’s story. “I saw him looking at it.” She sniffed. “It's probably the prettiest thing he's seen in his life.” Ashe went cold. Surely she didn't mean… 

_ It's an ugly necklace, _ he thought, before the knock on his door chased away all thoughts. 

He had no choice but to open it. “Professor Manuela.” 

Manuela looked much the same as always, if a little bored. Claretta stood beside her, all prim and proper and not a single thread out of place, but there was impatience in her eyes, and pride. 

“Hello, Ashe,” Manuela said, too sweet. “I'm sorry to bother you, but this seems to be the fastest way to put the matter to rest.” The injustice burned. Ashe knew without asking that the noble students hadn't been subjected to the same treatment. 

“Come in,” Ashe said, as if he had a choice in the matter. Manuela brushed down her spotless coat and stepped inside. Claretta strode in with no such hesitation and started opening cabinets and peering under the desk and bed. 

“It’s just a cursory check, my dear boy, nobody’s accusing you of anything,” Manuela said, giving Claretta a sideways look, which she ignored in favor of rummaging through drawers.

Ashe sat on his bed and said nothing, only waited.

Manuela had just begun tapping her foot in impatience when Claretta gave a triumphant cry and raised her hand. “It’s here! How dare you!” 

Ashe froze. Hanging from her fingers was the necklace she had been wearing that night in the dining hall. It glittered gaudily in the light through the window, taunting. 

“Well now,” Manuela said. Behind her, Claretta’s eyes glittered in triumph. “I’ll be speaking to your professor about this.”

The sound of the door closing behind them echoed through the small room and settled in the aching knot that filled Ashe's stomach. 

He stood there, staring at the door, caught between fury and terror. He didn't know how many breaths passed before he finally tore his feet from the ground and hurried towards the training grounds. 

By some great hand of fortune, Dimitri was there when he arrived, locked in fierce combat with Felix. It clearly wasn't their first time sparring that day - Felix's hair was more disarrayed than usual and Dimitri had sweat in his. 

Ashe waited for them to notice him. A few strokes later, Dimitri launched himself against Felix's blade… and the weak training weapon snapped, sending a heavy piece skittering across the floor. 

Felix studied the useless remaining half in his hands, unamused. “That doesn't count,” he said, drily. 

“No, I suppose not,” Dimitri admitted. “We could go again-” He turned, and worry came into his eyes. “Ashe! What is the matter? Has something else happened?”

Ashe's mouth went dry under that concerned gaze.

Felix looked between them, a slightly smug expression on his lips. “Hmm. This looks serious. You go play hero, boar, and I'll find someone else to spar with. Someone who I can actually trust to hold a weapon.”

“I- Thank you, Felix.”

“Hmph.” Felix snorted. “It's not as if you need _ my _permission to do anything.” He stalked off towards the knights testing their skills on the other side of the hall. 

“Come,” Dimitri told Ashe, heading out towards the dormitories. “We will talk in private.” 

It did not take many words to explain his plight, once they were again in Dimitri’s room with the door closed, yet Ashe fumbled over most of them, until his anger won out over his fear and he found his voice again. Dimitri listened patiently to it all, expression hardening.

“And she has framed you for the theft,” Dimitri said gravely. “I expected as much. Well, you needn't- Ashe?”

The terrible strain must have been visible on his face. “I _ was _ a thief,” Ashe said, unable to keep the shame from warping his voice. “Before Lonato adopted me.”

Dimitri blinked, then nodded, expression unchanged. “And not since?”

“No. I wouldn't. I knew it was wrong then, it was always wrong, even when we were starving…” He was babbling again, but he didn't know how to stop. “I didn't take the necklace. I swear, I didn't take it.”

“Ashe. I believe you.” Ashe looked up, and the determination in Dimitri's face finally silenced his fears. “I will find out what happened, I swear it.”

“You shouldn't have to…” Ashe protested, weakly. 

“I told her you were under my protection. I meant it. We will see this through to justice.”

Ashe forced himself to breathe. He trusted Dimitri, of course he did, and every single thing he’d seen of the prince proved that he would fight injustice at any cost. If he had chosen to involve himself in Ashe’s troubles, Ashe couldn’t trouble that, no matter it was surely beneath his dignity. 

“Thank you… Dimitri,” he said.

Dimitri smiled, and Ashe felt his heart lift for the second time that day. 

“Right them. We will address this at once,” Dimitri commanded, and led him out the door.

Manuela’s laughter reached them before they even set foot in the Blue Lions classroom. At the front table stood Professor Byleth, Professor Manuela, and-

“Dedue. What are you doing here?”

“Your Highness.” Dedue bowed. “I witnessed a... disturbance earlier today. I was reporting it to the Professors.”

“You saw her?” Ashe blurted, daring to hope, forgetting for a moment that he was probably interrupting whatever Dimitri was about to say.

“I did.” Nothing changed in Dedue’s face, but somehow Ashe could tell he was pleased. 

Dimitri nodded. “So we have proof of her deeds.” He let out a breath. “Thank you, my friend.”

Byleth set down a pen and slipped a folded piece of paper into a pocket. “I’m very glad to see my students assisting each other.”

“Oh, I agree,” Manuela said. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Ashe. I thought it better that Claretta not suspect anything.” So she had known from the start? She laughed at Ashe’s shocked expression. “You think I haven’t seen this sort of thing before? Singers can be as petty as they come.” She tilted her head towards Dedue. “This handsome fellow only confirmed my suspicions.”

Ashe didn’t miss the dubious expression Dimitri wore watching her lean on Dedue’s arm. Dedue, for his part, utterly ignored her

“I could do no less,” Dedue said, which did absolutely nothing to dampen Ashe’s gratitude. 

“Rest assured, this will be handled,” Byleth said. “You’ve done well. But you should know that you can come to me or any of your friends if you are struggling.” A small smile, noticeable for its rarity. “We’re here to help.” 

The Professor knew the truth, now. Ashe nearly wanted to cry with relief. 

Manuela sighed. “Such a pity, she was a promising mage. But I am very glad to put an end to all this unpleasantness. It’s pretty on stage, but it doesn’t belong in a classroom.”

“Very true,” Dimitri agreed. He turned to Ashe. “You can leave if you wish, Ashe. As House Leader, I will deal with the rest.”

He shouldn’t make Dimitri do so much work for him, but he knew by now that there was no dissuading him from it. So he bowed and returned to his room, relief a palpable lightness in his chest. He buried himself in a familiar book, a tale of an adventuring knight chasing a demon from village to village, until there was another knock at his door. 

Dimitri entered, looking grimly satisfied. Ashe almost laughed; it was such a serious expression considering the circumstances, more befitting a victorious hero than someone sorting out student affairs. 

“It is done,” Dimitri said. “I will tell the others in class tomorrow. I suspect they will still attempt to protect you in whatever ways they can,” he said, smiling fondly. Ashe wondered if he knew he was doing it. _ They would do the same for you, _he thought. With that thought came warmth. Both of them had so many friends and allies they could trust in. And wasn’t that what Dimitri had wanted, back when classes started, when he asked his House to accept him as a friend and not a prince? If only Dimitri would accept his friends as friends, and let them aid him.

“Needless to say,” Dimitri went on, “she will not be able to hurt you again, as she will not be attending classes much longer.”

Ashe winced. “I suppose they’re planning to expel her?”

“No doubt of that. Edelgard won’t hold with a liar in her class, and the Academy does not look kindly on this sort of behavior.”

Ashe nodded. “Thank you, truly.” Something still wasn’t right. It should feel good, like a knight defeating a scoundrel, and yet, somehow it did not. Did he want her punished? Yes, he supposed, but more than that he wanted her to stop troubling him and his friends. Permanent dishonor was further than he had imagined going.

“You don’t seem happy,” Dimitri said, studying him with a faint frown. 

Ashe shook his head. “I can’t help but think of what expulsion from the Academy would mean for her family. And her future.”

“It will be difficult, I am sure. And a great source of shame to her family. But she will have other avenues open to her.” 

Still, it didn't feel right. Ashe sighed. “Dimitri, if I go to the professors and ask them not to expel her, do you think they will listen to me?”

Dimitri stared at him. “You would do that?”

“I believe people deserve a second chance. That’s what Lonato did for me. Without that, I don’t know where I would be now. Certainly not here with you.” 

It was a few moments before Dimitri responded. 

“I'm impressed. It’s very honorable of you. I… I could not be so forgiving.”

Oh, how warm it was to be praised, and how it hurt to hear Dimitri demean himself. Ashe smiled a lopsided smile. “I think… even if we've done terrible things in the past, we still have the potential to do good.”

“To do good, even in spite of terrible deeds...” Dimitri echoed, looking off at something Ashe couldn't see. “That is a comforting thought. Thank you, Ashe.”

What did he mean? Words floated into Ashe's head, something Dimitri had said in the depths of his nightmares, but he knew he could not ask. Instead, he smiled, and hoped it was enough. Someday, when he felt able to, maybe Dimitri would tell him.

“And, Ashe,” Dimitri continued, “even in the absence of a threat to your well-being, my invitation still stands. You are welcome to stay with me any time you would like.”

Ashe knew he was blushing, but he didn't care. “I'd love to.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You two have so many people who love you...
> 
> I have some ideas for a post-timeskip fic with these two, so we'll see what comes of that!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this pair for ages.  
Check out my Discord! https://discord.gg/4vpWaZU


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